


When Exhaustion Isn't The Only Thing You Share

by sleepismyfriend



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepismyfriend/pseuds/sleepismyfriend
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an adventure, the Doctor and Sarah are very much caught up in trying to finally get some rest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Exhaustion Isn't The Only Thing You Share

Having returned to the TARDIS after a forty-eight hour absence, Sarah heads straight for her room and bed, not even bothering to take off the worn combat boots caked in dark mud as her body spreads out on top of the many blankets she demands the TARDIS provide. Meanwhile, the Doctor sets them for the Vortex and does a rudimentary system check, shedding most of his outer garb before following after her.

He enters her bedroom to find her flat on her stomach with a large plush pillow under her cheek and her feet sticking over the edge of the bed. Her feet are just enough over that the hardly dried mud barely touches. Knowing that trying to change her clothes is out of the question, the Doctor goes for the boots. He unlaces them slowly as to avoid getting much mud on himself.

"You could have done the simple thing and taken these off before you landed, you know," the Doctor whispers, letting each boot drop to the floor before discovering the long multi-coloured socks she's wearing. He smiles and places both feet more securely on the bed before moving towards the blankets.

Once he's satisfied she's tucked in properly, the Doctor looks down on his sleeping companion.

"Pleasant dreams, my Sarah," the Doctor says, dimming the lights before he leaves.

\--

As Sarah's eyes blink open, the hums of the TARDIS greet her in slow waves gliding across her body. She doesn't know the how or why, but the hums are different than usual. Their slightly eerie sounding echoes bounce off her bedroom walls and she finds herself pushing back the blankets and getting out of bed.

She pauses, remembering that in order to intuitively listen to the TARDIS, she must clear her mind. It takes a second, but with her eyes closed, she finds the train of thought she needs and waits for the TARDIS to answer. 

It's a trickle at most, not giving her any clue as to the how or why of what's happening until Sarah sighs, remembering the Doctor's instructions about being patient and tries again. The second time a wave passes over her, resonating through the bones in her body as her feet move forward. She slips into the corridor, looking both ways before focusing her mind again. 

The TARDIS is being generous, allowing her to find the Doctor's bedroom after only three turns down different corridors. She thinks about knocking, but finds herself reaching for the doorknob. 

The Doctor's bedroom has always been his inner most sanctuary. It changes for each and every incarnation and rarely reveals itself to others except in times of concern. At the time, Sarah thought this was odd, but the Doctor had shrugged and said it was the TARDIS's way, and it could always be changed if necessary. 

The old-fashioned wood and eccentric accents she sees fit this Doctor remarkably well, and as she moves from the outer room to the inner one, it only becomes more apparent. The bed, though rather large, appears to vaguely have been slept in with the blankets turned back and the pillows scattered. Books line the walls and shelves, and there's even a desk scattered in papers near a large balcony filled full with sunlight in an orange sky. 

If Sarah didn't know better, she'd almost say they were back in 15th century San Martino rather than on board the TARDIS.

Still in his trousers with his shirt untucked, the Doctor leans against the doorway of his balcony and stares as though he's looking out at a city. Sarah's fingers trace the edge of his desk as she approaches.

"When's the last time you slept?" she asks, tiling her head as he glances over his shoulder. 

"Hmm?"

"Sleep," she steps forward, looping her arms through his to cross over his stomach as she settles her forehead in the middle of his back. "You know, that thing you do when you're exhausted?"

She feels the Doctor's hands cover hers. "I couldn't sleep."

"Why not? Are we out of warm milk?" Sarah's humour makes the Doctor smirk, and he rubs her hands and arms for comfort.

"Is that really what you do when you're not tired? Drink liquid from a mammal's mammary glands at an unnecessary temperature?"

"You have something else in mind?" He feels Sarah's head pull back to look up at him, and he shifts so they're facing as her arms go around his waist. Sarah's eyebrow is slightly elevated, and even a Time Lord knows what she's implying. 

"I'm no expert on human sleep patterns, but there are several things I could possibly suggest." He pushes several strands of her hair behind her ears, allowing his thumbs to linger on her cheeks as he thinks of how long her hair has grown since they first started travelling together.

"Mmm, yes, but you're a stuffy old Time Lord. You'd probably have me counting sheep or reciting the numbers of pi backwards. That is not what I would recommend for you." Sarah's much more feisty with this version of him than the previous one, leading him to believe that there must be something to his crooked nose and curls that she finds aesthetically pleasing. 

"Really? Well then, my Sarah, what would you recommend?" He sees the secret delight of the way he says her name spreading across her cheeks as her arms drop and she reaches for his hand.

"You need someone to sleep with." She leads them towards the bed, before turning to face him. "Unless of course, Time Lords don't require companionship of any kind."

"You know we can go a very long time without any." He tilts his head as Sarah's hands go to her hips.

"Just how long has it been?"

"Oh, 500 years, give or take a couple hundred." The Doctor stuck out his lip, trying to recall the details of a certain other Time Lord in the Academy, and their debates on the merits of tactile sensations on lower races with special emphasis on—.

"Doctor," Sarah warns. "It's not like I'm trying to have my way with you or something. I'm merely trying to help you close your eyes and give that big ol brain of yours a break."

"And sleeping will accomplish that? Pity. Perhaps having your way with me is the preferential way to go." It's the Doctor's turn to bait Sarah as she rolls her eyes and moves towards his shirt, undoing the buttons faster than the Doctor could admit before she turns and walks away towards the bed. 

"Into your pyjamas while I fix this bed," Sarah reaches for his pillows, straightening them as well as the blankets as he smirks.

"Sarah—"

"No buts about it. It's not like I'm watching you. Shoo." He watches her get to work before turning. Normally, he sleeps very little and tends to drift off in his full clothes. He slips off his open buttoned down shirt and grabs the nearest thing, which happens to be an oversized shirt he found in the wardrobe several nights ago. He loosens his trousers, but not before checking over his shoulder to see her back to him. 

"Fixed it all up then?" He slips off his trousers to his boxers and moves back towards her.

"Mh hmm." Sarah appears quite pleased, the sheets having been straightened and the pillows and blankets arranged just so. He can tell she's eyeing him for approval, and he returns her expression.

"You're still in your clothes from earlier. Shouldn't you be required to change in this newly found arrangement?"

"You're kidding."

"I assure you, I am far from kidding." He moves towards where one of his longer shirts lies and holds it out to her. "If I have to sleep in very little, than so do you. Consider it evening the score."

"I'm not the one who's exhausted—" 

"No, but you are the one who's trying to get me to sleep. And so to sleep, I require that you not be wearing those foul smelling clothes from earlier. Here." He watches her snatch the shirt. 

"Turn around please," she says. He turns, grinning like an idiot before she clears her throat. It's obvious the shirt is much too big as it barely touches her bare mid thigh and she's rolling the sleeves up to keep from covering her wrists. With her longer hair curling around her face, he's never realized how aesthetically pleasing she truly can be. Any other human male would drool at the mouth to see Sarah like this. "There, are you happy?"

"Immeasurably."

"Good, now we can both get some rest." They slide into bed, and Sarah turns on her left side, facing outward as the Doctor allows a half a metre between them. 

"Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Isn't the purpose of us sleeping together to be providing some sort of tactile function that will allow us better slumber?" He wants to curl around her, giving her the comfort he knows she's been missing the past several months since they've been away from Earth. 

He sees Sarah's sigh, and thinks it's possible he's asked for too much until she scoots back, reaching for his hand and bringing it around her tiny frame to rest over her heart.

"Close your eyes," she says, feeling his breath along the back of her neck as she tries to calm her nerves. Her fingers leave his hand covering her heart as she traces the top of his bare leg and brings it closer so they fit rather snugly. Sarah leaves her hand close to his knee.

"They were already closed," he says, nestling in without even really thinking about it.

"Sure—" 

"Now who's not sleeping?" He can feel the sleep coming in relaxing waves he hadn't expected. Surely, his colleague at the academy was wrong about this. If tactile sensations were so comforting, why did Time Lords avoid them? The thoughts are becoming a bit jumbled as the proximity of Sarah melds with his subconscious.

"You told the Muncoxi earlier I belonged to you." He hears her mumble.

"I didn't hear you offer anything to the different." His nose brushes the back of her head as he counts the number of her heartbeats under his fingers.

"How could I?"

"Very easily."

"I'm too tired to argue."

"Then stop arguing and sleep. We'll deal with it tomorrow."

"Alright."

"Okay."

In no time, they're both fast asleep.


End file.
